Sarah Palin has RESIGNED!!!!

Sarah Palin's resignation has been one of the best things that has happened in politics since President Obama got elected. A welcome distraction from the beating a dead horse Michael Jackson (overdose?) coverage, it took us back to the story we stopped paying attention to during the Week When My Childhood Died (because my other idol Farrah Fawcett also passed though that was seemingly forgotten by most), the implosion of inarticulate and inept cad Gov. Sanford, his Argentine booty calls, and the other women with whom he "crossed the line" but not the "ultimate line" which he did cross, with his "exotic" "soul mate." Like Sanford, Palin imploded during a rambling, manic, incoherent, self-serving, contradictory, dishonest hastily-called press conference, which, like the one that foreshadowed it, I thoroughly enjoyed. Let's hope that after the curiosity regarding her motives is satisfied, that we'll never see or hear from this bitch ever again.

Falete

Falete, looking fabulous with a lace trimmed sleeve, his signature French manicure and pulled back ponytail.

I can never ever get enough of Falete, my favorite gender-bending flamenco/copla singer. Lately he has been in the news again because of his messy break up with Israel, a young hustler who had been planning to wed the singer, then staged a fake kidnapping (secuestro espress as they called it, or a quickie abduction) in order to get ransom money to pay his numerous debts. Falete stood by him until he learned the truth, broke up the engagement, and of course was devastated.

Below are Falete and Israel, in happier times. Note that Falete is dressed in his ambigous "unfiorm" of tunic top usually in a shiny polyesterish fabric (very much what an older Spanish lady from the provinces would wear) but instead of a skirt, worn with pants. However, he dons a Manton de Manila, the lovely embroidered silk shawls worn only by women, never by men.

Falete resembles the passionate women who are known for singing flamenco/copla, such as the late Rocio Jurado, Isabel Pantoja, or Maria del Monte. Del Monte, pictured above, is as butch as Falete is femme. They meet in the middle on the gender spectrum. Rumors surround del Monte about her sexuality, but she refuses to go there. Falete, on the other hand, proudly calls himself a maricon. He's out but not out in the Chelsea clone manner that is becoming more and more popular in Spain. No, instead he looks like a 50ish lady singer, keeping it old school with his mantones de manila, French manicures, updos, and satiny lace trimmed bedazzled schmattes.

Below is a photo of del Monte with her reputed ex, Isabel Pantoja. Pantoja is the most famous flamenco/copla singer since the deaths of Lola Flores and Rocio Jurado. She is the widow of famous bullfighter Paquirri, and I have written here before about her lady and male loves since and her sinister political/financial doings. Note the resemblance between Falete and these two.


Even in their casual wear off stage: Falete and Maria del Monte, which is which? Well, for starters, the one with the long French manicure is Falete, miss del Monte doesn't do manicures. And the one with the denim (ahem) jacket is del Monte, of course.

But the really uncanny resemblance is between Falete's mother (left) and Falete himself. I recently saw a video of the two of them, dressed exactly alike, with identical designer sunglasses, French manicures, and lip gloss, and I almost passed out. (the mother is a bit slimmer though) The mother is the greatest, she totally supports her son.

But even if he wasn't fabulous and out, I would still love him because of his huge talent. Here he is singing the classic "Señora" a song about the other woman singing to the wife of her lover. Note that Falete sings it with the right pronouns, so he is addressing a wife about having an affair with her husband! Fabulous!!!!! And to make this even better, there is a lady dressed up as a bullfighter. Can it get any better? I don't know because I just fainted!

Aramis Fuster - Bruja and delincuent?

Since I am home writing and editing a book, I need to take the edge off by watching bad TV from Spain, and what better than the afternoon chat shows which often feature the frikis, or freaks, as I have explained here before. A classic of this genre of personalities is the bruja (witch) slash pitonisa (fortune teller) slash self-help author slash self-designated sex symbol, Aramis Fuster. She resurfaces periodically each summer to pose in a thong bathing suit pool side (which will sear off anyone's eye balls, so I refrain from posting that here), or more demurely, as you see her below in her lovely black mesh schmatta.

This summer, she is facing two years of jail time for owing money to a computer company that was helping her set up her Tarot reading website. Below, a video that had me literally crying from laughing so hard, featuring her recent court appearance and its aftermath, a dramatic faint outside the court house. Everything about her elegant and dignified outfit - too tight tube top, a weave that was about to fall out, skintight snake print pants, platform patent leather peep toe shoes, huge (presumably) fake Vuitton bag, and garish makeup, must have impressed the judge. For those of you convinced that she is a drag queen, no way, she is an R.G. (biological female, or real girl). In fact, a couple of summers ago, she tried to convince us that she was dating James Hewitt, yes that Hewitt, former riding instructor of the late Lady Diana and alleged father of Harry. You cannot make these people up. I love Spain! Sadly I cannot spare the time to visit this summer, but the TV shows make me feel right at home.

Quien sabe donde? (1992-1998) - for J.

I love Spanish TV. In fact, I am addicted to it, so much so that I pay good money to have 2 channels -one governmental the other private - in my home here in NYC. My childhood memories are made up of bull fights (seen in black and white because my grandparents were too poor to have color until I was older), lurid R or X-rated films aired after lunch on one of the two TV channels, thanks to the post-Franco destape (unveiling), cheesy game shows like Un, dos, tres that featured what they called "azafatas" the word we use for stewardess, endless news or variety programs led by men with large mustaches and mutton-chops (one had the last name Iñigo), a Wild Kingdom type show where a hunter went around killing animals (that guy had long hair and was called Fuente or Puente, there was national mourning when he died).

In the 1990s, when I was living there on and off, there was a new genre that was a precursor to reality TV. This included the shows led by Isabel Gemio such as "Tengo una carta para ti" or "Sorpresa, sorpresa," where hapless guests cried as they told their stories, and the petite clueless hostess, who made several bloopers per episode, "surprised" them by re-uniting them with relatives or giving them a washing machine. My personal favorite was when, in the days before cameras in computers, Skype, or the internet, a huge deal was to connect a person to their distant loved one via video feed. You could see the face of the guest crumple as they wished instead to see them in person.

Another favorite show whose name I am forgetting at the moment was hosted by a balding leathery dapper old man who, after a guest had been stalked at their workplace or home and dragged to a waiting trailer, asked them about their lost love, estranged partner, subject of distant obsession, etc. Wedged in the narrow trailer, there was always a low little table with two unnaturally neon orange drinks, which no one ever drank. Soon after, the two star-crossed lovers were re-united in the studio, leading to extremely awkward outcomes. There was a whole subset of situations involving abusive husbands (this was shortly before the government launched the public education campaigns to attempt to lower the astronomically high rates of "violencia de genero" or gender violence, which even now leads to a large number of murders, and shamefully lenient judicial sentences, because apparently it's less bad to kill or maim a woman than it is to steal somebody's bike) who get on their knees, plead for forgiveness, and were taken back by their abused wives or girlfriends.

However, probably my all-time favorite was a show called "Quien sabe donde?" or "Who knows where?" in which people seeking lost loved ones came forward. Apparently, the show had a high success rate. But my friend and I, who were roommates on and off, began to feel that there was something particularly Spanish about this particular set of situations. As we de-compressed from hours spent in dusty archives, leafing through crumbling periodicals from the 1930s, day after day looking at images from the Spanish Civil War, the black humor found in the everyday tragedies revealed in the show stood out in sharp relief.

Although sadly quite a few of the cases had to do with kidnappings or murders, we half-jokingly developed a theory that the majority of the people sought in the show disappeared ON PURPOSE. As a portrait of them and their world emerged from the testimonies of those they were surrounded by, we started to identify with the disappeared. The sinister small towns seemingly mired in the 1950s, where goats were still thrown from the bell tower of the church in an annual festival, the toothless, fat bald obviously abusive husband, the domineering mother living vicariously through her (missing) teenage daughter.... I remember one episode where you got to see both sides, because they tracked the latter down. She was in Andorra with a boyfriend, having a blast, and couldn't stand her mother. The mother of course, had painted the relationship as ideal, they were "best friends" and not "mother and daughter." We hypothesized that missing wives were happier in the UK, treated like exotic princesses by husbands who did all the cooking.

But now it occurs to me that perhaps this show struck a subconscious chord with Spaniards, given the fact that, thanks to dictator Francisco Franco, almost everyone (including me) knows someone who fits into the following categories: hundreds of thousands went into exile, never returning, tens of thousands died, tens of thousands lie in mass graves today, children were taken from their parents and their identities lost, others are disappeared and no one knows what happened to them.

GENTE

Every night before the TVE (Spain's national channel) evening news one of my favorite TV show airs, called GENTE or People it covers the span of human affairs, from lurid to glamorous. Divided into "Sucesos" and "Sociedad" half of it covers things like decapitations (usually in small towns), wife beating, individuals with rare and disfiguring ailments, and horrible crimes. Sociedad deals with elegant parties, flattering interviews, gossip, and product placement. Awkwardly, sometimes a story about the Royal Family must be covered (always first in Sociedad) in contiguity with an extremely unpleasant grisly bit.

Typical segments from the Sucesos section:



Local prelate smuggles hashish to prisoners.



Local festival on hold due to neighbor's allegations that he was gored by a bull during an encierro.

Typical product-placement soft focus celebrity sound bite in the Sociedad section:

Michael Jackson: RIP

This video from 2007 has gone viral and there is good reason. It is the best. thing. ever. Apparently these are 1.500 inmates at a prison in Cebu, Filipinas. I am loving the one in drag who has her moment in the sun early on in the dance routine. This is truly a triumph of the human spirit and I just hope that Michael, may he rest in peace, saw it.

Ugliest Dog Pageant

I simply cannot believe that one of my favorite breeds ever, the Chinese Crested, is considered to be so ugly that it had won until this year for the previous 5.

Thanks to D-Listed, one of my top top top favorite blogs, for posting this video.